


Restoring a Family

by Hanna_S (Herra_Sombra)



Series: The Calm After The Storm [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Because we need more of these old nerds being happy and family again, Brotherly Love, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Angst, Post-Weirdmageddon, Reconciliation, Sappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6110522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herra_Sombra/pseuds/Hanna_S
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weirdmageddon changed everything.<br/>Some of these changes were traumatic, terrific, unforgettable.<br/>But some appeared to have a rather positive result.<br/>Even though Stan was still struggling with recovering his memory, this experiencing his life once again helped him get over some nagging issues.<br/>As well as it helped his relationship with his nerdy twin brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restoring a Family

**Author's Note:**

> Feel warned: the ending is really really sappy.  
> But I think that fluff is always good to soothe yourself and forget about so many angsty ideas ;)
> 
> Besides, my favourite old grunkles finally made up (and I still haven't got over the finale), so it's probably the first of at least several ficlets. Stans are just such an amazing source of inspiration for me, that I can't help myself but write.
> 
> Partially inspired by [this post](http://stariousfalls.tumblr.com/post/133841724240/tho-really-what-if-this-happened-in-the-end-ford).
> 
> So… I hope you'll like it.  
> And I hope that anyone is not too much OOC in here.
> 
> (And once again – if you spot any mistakes, tell me.)
> 
> EDIT (21.04.2016): Just a few corrections here and there. But get ready for the continuation! ;>

_You ruined your own life!_

A kick and he felt fire on his back.

His skin was burning.

A furious groan escaped his throat.

The man he was fighting with was still laying on the floor, looking in his direction. A concern broke through that man’s stubborn expression.

When the pain eased a little, Stanley realised it was his brother he was about to punch.

Twin brother whom he hadn’t seen in over ten years.

_You care more about your damn mysteries than your family!_

Rage.

How could he? After all Stan had been through?

All he was thinking about was his damn research!

Stanley completely ignored strange light, spinning increasingly faster inside his brother’s invention.

That was a beginning of an end.

_Well, then you can have 'em!_

Gritted teeth, he throw himself in his direction, pushing that stupid journal of his in his hands.

What he hadn’t expected was to see his brother suddenly hovering in the air.

He was getting closer and closer to that portal or whatever it was, desperately waving his hands.

A quick realisation washed through Stan’s mind.

He lunged forward, frantically trying to find a way to help him.

It was too late, though.

His brother was screaming something, while his body began to dive into that weird glowing whirl.

In the last moment, he managed to throw the journal in Stan’s direction.

And then he disappeared.

_Stanley! Stanley! Do something! Stanley!_

Silence.

Horror.

And a round black hole in that strange triangular machinery, as empty as was his heart at the moment.

He’d screwed up.

Again.

His lungs were burning.

Tears were running through his cheeks, while his vision was getting much more blurry.

He felt his hands being more and more swollen, as he was punching the cold metal again and again, with all his strength.

Collapsing to his knees, he buried face in hands, finally finding his voice again.

A desperate cry echoed through the room.

_Stanford! Come back! I didn't mean it!_

He woke up to darkness of his room. He could easily feel sweat on his back. For a moment there was that irrational fear of still being in the portal room. A feeling that it might not have been just a dream.

Rubbing his eyes a little, he looked at the alarm clock standing on a bedside table.

5.43 am.

It could have been worse. It wouldn't be the first time he had woken up in the middle of the night, unable to fall asleep again, as far as he remembered at least. He'd suffered from nightmares long before, so he could say he got used to it.

But that dream, or actually a memory, was somehow different. It was haunting him for about thirty years. And now he thought it was already over, yet he couldn’t get over that argument and events following it.

_That’s it, knucklehead._ He closed his eyes again. _Sixer’s here, there’s nothing to worry ‘bout._ He tried to comfort himself somehow, but a huge wave of memories filled his mind, making it impossible for him to focus on anything else. Some of them he’d already regained, some were entirely new.

_You can stay here for summer to watch the kids. I’ll stay down in the basement and try to contain any remaining damage. But when the summer is over, you give me my house back, you give me my name back, and this ‘Mystery Shack’ junk is over forever. You got it?_

Sadness.

Disappointment.

And then fury.

That’s what he’d felt, hearing that.

And that’s all he had gotten after thirty years of hard work, sacrifices, and lies?

A few blows and getting kicked out of his home again?

_You really aren’t gonna thank me, are you?_

He had looked at his brother’s face, so similar to his own, yet it couldn’t have seemed more unfamiliar.

He should’ve known that he’d lost him the day he’d broken that stupid machine at their school’s science fair.

That they had no longer been a family.

_Fine! On one condition – you stay away from the kids. I don’t want them in danger. Cause as far as I am concerned, they’re the only family I had left!_

Stop it! That’s it!

He snapped out of his thoughts, sitting up on the bed. It had been a few weeks and a whole Weirdmageddon ago. It’s just a history now.

Besides, that was a bad time for reflecting on his life, and he should be in a good mood for the last day of his great niblings in Gravity Falls. He involuntary glanced at a frame, standing next to the alarm clock, with a picture of Dipper and Mabel smiling and embracing each other in it.

_You need reminders, grunkle Stan!_

A small sad smile spread on his lips.

_Is that okay, sweetie?_

Her cheerful grin was enough of a reminder for him.

He loved those kids so much, but he knew they had their own lives. They couldn’t stay here forever. It didn’t make it easier to say goodbye to them, though.

Great. From one depressing thought to the other.

He sighed and got up. Maybe making a morning coffee would help him not to think about it?

* * *

He could hear from a corridor that someone was in the kitchen. He hoped it wasn’t any of the kids, it was way too early for any of them to get up.

He took a deep breath, ready to take whoever a sleepwalker was back to their bed. He strode into the room only to see his brother sitting at the table and reading an odd old book, with a steaming mug next to him.

“Morning, Sixer,” Stan greeted him, turning around rapidly and starting seeking for a can of coffee in one of the cupboards.

“It’s the left one,” Ford instructed patiently, taking a brief glance at his twin.

After finally finding coffee, Stan reached for an electric kettle and filled it with water. While it was slowly beginning to boil, he looked at the cupboards once again. _Mug, I need a mug._ And nothing. He desperately tried to recall where he kept them, but he couldn’t.

“It's barely 6 am, Stanley,” Ford pointed out, still reading.

Stan groaned. He gave up after a few seconds of staring at his kitchen he’d used to know so well and turned back to his brother. With clenched fists, he stepped to the table, leaving the open can and boiling water behind.

“Is everything alright?” This time a concern was clearly audible in Ford’s voice, while he looked up at him, evidently spotting that something was wrong. “How do you feel?”

“Okay, I guess.” Stan shrugged. “Could ask ya ‘bout th’ same thing,” he added playfully, hiding his nervousness. “Do you ever sleep?” He took a sit opposite his brother.

“Several short naps a day are enough,” Ford stated, taking a sip from his mug. “Besides, my research is in vain and I have to work twice as hard to document again everything I can,” he said it quite calmly, though Stan could see how disappointed and distressed he really was.

“It ain’t healthy, y’know?” Stan thoroughly examined his face, realising how much older and tired his brother looked after the events of the last few days.

“Better than wandering through some strange other dimensions,” Ford laughed, yet humourlessly.

“Yeah.” Stan grimaced a bit, all the memories coming back to him. Dark dank room, whiz of running portal…

He felt shiver going down his spine. Aching muscles and bones from sleeping on the concrete floor, dry eyes from staying awake for too long, fury mixed up with sorrow… It had been a rather difficult time for him, even worse than cold winter spent in his car. “Look, Poindexter, I’m _really_ sorry ‘bout that whole... mess. I totally screwed up.” He rubbed his neck, looking away.

“You shouldn't be,” Ford contradicted evenly, getting back to his book. “Now I see clearly that I deserved that fate,” he added quietly after a while.

“Never say that.” Stan’s voice was firm, with a strain of honest surprise and outrage in it.

“But I did!,” he protested bitterly. “The way I treated you...”

“C'mon, I wasn't the best brother either!,” Stan sighed, a bit irritated by Ford’s overstating.

“It doesn't change the fact that I was so immersed in my work that I didn't take your feelings under consideration and I thought about the whole world but you, while you were just trying to reconcile with me after all these years you'd spent completely on your own.” His voice cracked a bit and Ford cleared his throat. “That's... that's unforgivable.”

“It's in the past.” Stan rolled his eyes, slowly getting impatient.

There was a brief moment of silence. Stan could see that his brother was struggling with himself, but he couldn’t tell the exact reason. If it was all about that argument… Maybe Ford still was furious about it? Stan started tapping his fingers on the table. _Say somethin', Sixer. What the heck is bothering you?_

Ford heaved a sigh and cautiously took off his glasses. “I'm... I'm sorry, Stanley,” he murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Stan raised a brow, surprised by his confession.

“After all you've done for me I... I wanted to kick you out of the Shack!,” his brother exclaimed, slowly losing his usual composure. “I wanted to do what Fillbrick had done... to my own twin.” He frowned. “What a terrible brother I am!,” he sobbed then, hiding face in his hands. “I’ve been so stupid that I’ve almost lost you…”

“Stop it! You're acting like a kid, Sixer,” Stan groaned. “It’s not a big deal!”

 “Aren't you mad at me?” And he looked like a little kid, indeed.

That vulnerability shocked Stan. That man who had survived in other dimensions, dealing with terrifying monstrosities, ready to sacrifice the world, to let the diabolic dream demon into his mind only to safe his family, was now looking at him with a fearful expression, as if he battened down the hatches. As if his whole world was about to fall apart, if only he would be rejected.

Stan stared at him for a moment. It was funny how they’d switched places that now it was Ford who was longing for a reconciliation. He smirked slightly. After so many years it finally happened. “Same as I was when you ignored me when we were kids, cause you had these nerdy books of yours,” he answered, unable to contain a quiet laugh that escaped his throat.

Ford bit his lip, unsure how to interpret his reaction. “I'm serious,” he insisted, slowly regaining composure. “Isn't it that once you regain a memory, you get through a particular situation as if it's completely new, experiencing it all over again?,” he asked, with a strain of scientific curiosity in his voice.

_And he’s back himself._ Stan breathed a sigh of relief. He had been afraid for a moment that his brother had lost his mind, this time for real.  “Sure, but these are just memories, Ford,” he reassured. “More important is what's happenin' now. Heck, I may have huge gaps in my mind, but I'm happy.” He smiled brightly. “Really happy, for the first time in years. It's all that matters. I’m not gonna let these old regrets take over me, it’s a waste of time. And since there’s not much time left for me, I wanna get the most out of it."

Ford stared at him blankly. "That's splendid, but..."

“Okay, dwellin' on that is over,” Stan cut in, not letting him to say anything more. “Besides, we have a great party to throw today, that's the hell more important. You don't wanna disappoint those kids after all they went through, do ya?” He smirked and received a small sheepish smile from his twin.

"Well, if you say so..." Ford looked down at the book and closed it, moving it away.

Meanwhile, Stan got up and started walking to the corridor. The sketchy plans that had been created yesterday needed to be polished a bit, and it could be great to already start preparations, especially because there was only a couple of hours left.

But then he suddenly stopped short. Something had struck him. “By the way...” He glanced over his shoulder. “It just popped into my mind I photocopied your Journal 3. Y'know, Dipper was so excited about it I couldn't... just take it away from him. Let the kiddo have fun, right? Even with playin' with fire...” He smiled a bit bitterly, but was fast to snap out of it. “But if you wish, you could use these copies and...” His brother’s amazed expression threw him off stride.

Ford stood up and slowly approached him. He then opened his arms and hugged Stan tightly. “Thank you, Stanley,” he murmured into his brother’s arm. “I can't believe I've waited for so long to tell you that.” His voice was just barely louder than a whisper.

Stan, surprised by that gesture and words he’d heard, stood still with wide eyes. He couldn’t expect that to happen. Something had changed in his brother’s attitude lately. Even though most of the tension between them had already disappeared, Stan still didn’t get used to Ford showing so many emotions, not to mention any physical affection.

And now he had his long-lost twin brother in his arms. He was quick to return the embrace, feeling that Ford’s face was getting wet. “It's okay, Sixer,” he just said, stroking gently his brother’s back.

_We're a family again._ Those words were hanging in the air like a magic spell, unsaid, but perfectly understood.

It was really hard to tell for Stan how long they were standing here, just celebrating that ground-breaking moment for both of them. Although after some time he saw a movement behind a doorframe out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t mistake a familiar silhouette for anyone else.

"Pumpkin, what are you doin' here? There's a long day to come, you should..." Then a sudden pure relief and happiness on Mabel’s face took him aback a bit. He couldn't recall what would cause such a reaction, maybe something he didn't remember yet. Nonetheless, seeing his great niece expression, he couldn't help himself but let a small bright smile play upon his lips.

He leaned back a little, noticing that Ford was as much surprised as him, especially when Mabel suddenly was rushing in their direction. Stan involuntary kneeled down, pulling his brother down with him. He felt her tiny arms wrapping around his neck tightly and found himself on the floor, hugging with his little girl and nerdy twin brother.

"You did it!" she cried out excitedly after a few moments.

"Did what?," Ford asked curiously. One could almost hear a smile in his voice.

"You hugged it out!" Mabel laughed wholeheartedly, and it didn’t take her great uncles long to join her.


End file.
